


The Gift

by KiloAlphaJigsaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Story, Gen, Kidfic, M/M, Minor Violence, bb!Hales Tales, werewolf religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiloAlphaJigsaw/pseuds/KiloAlphaJigsaw
Summary: Derek’s mother – and all the Alphas before her – always said that being a werewolf was a gift. It stands to reason that it would be a Christmas gift…





	The Gift

**Author's Note:**

> If our world really had werewolves in it, how would that mesh with real world religions? How would European werewolves accommodate Christianity? What stories would they tell?  
> I mean no sacrilege, and certainly no insult to Christianity (I am a Christian myself), and hope no one takes offense at this story.  
> I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas (if you celebrate it), and a Happy New Year!  
> Thank-you so much for reading!  
> Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit - don't sue!

Derek chased his little brother down the hall and finally cornered him outside the powder room, grabbing him around the waist and carrying him upside down back to the living room. “Don’t be a baby, Al,” he growled, “or you’ll have to sit on Mama’s lap another year.”

  
Alaric clung to Derek’s leg with his needle-sharp three-year-old’s claws. “Don’t drop me, Der! I’ll be good! Wanna sit with the big kids.”

  
“Then you gotta behave and not be a brat,” he said. “You’re makin’ _me_ look bad, too.” He flipped his brother right side up, and flopped to the floor in front of the sofa. The grown-ups had put Gramma Hale’s big chair across from it, in front of the fireplace, and moved the coffee table away so there was room on the floor for all the kids. Derek sat cross-legged, with his brother in the hollow of his legs, wrapped his arms around him, and rubbed his chin over Alaric’s soft, soft hair.

  
Al craned his head to look back at Derek, nipping at his chin. “I’m _always_ good,” he said. Derek rolled his eyes. He didn’t have to be a werewolf to recognize that obvious lie.

  
“Just be good _now_ ,” he muttered, and squeezed the toddler tighter, dipping his head to sniff his brother’s little boy scent, thankful that the kid had _finally_ gotten potty-trained, and no longer had that whiff of pee and poop about him.

  
Laura plopped herself down on Derek’s left, Cora obediently dropping into her lap, both girls fastidiously pulling their skirts away from where they were touching the boys. Like _boys_ had cooties, when everyone knew it was girls who did. He deliberately rubbed his shoulder against Laura’s, just to see the look of disgust on her face. He smirked triumphantly and turned away as Patrick sat down on his other side, cousin Sophie already in his arms. It was probably for the best that the two human kids sat together, though at nineteen his big brother was not really a kid anymore.

  
The grown-ups came in then, Mama sitting behind Derek, just like he was hoping she would. He leaned forward to give her space to sit, ignoring Al’s squawk as he was squished, then leaned back against her legs. He tipped his head back to grin up at her, and she bent forward, smiling, to drop a kiss on his forehead.

  
“Are you excited for the story?” she asked, holding the sides of his head and rubbing her thumbs over his cheeks.

  
“Yup,” he answered, turning his face to nose her palm, breathing in her wonderful Mama scent. There wasn’t a better scent in the world than that. It made his heart do funny things to smell it, and he could smell the sweet scent of love coming off both of them at his action.

  
“My good, big boy,” she murmured. “Big enough to take charge of the little ones for us. I really am proud of you, my Der-bear.”

  
Derek twisted so he could look at her. “I’ll do a good job, Mama,” he said. “I promise.”

  
Mama smiled back. “I know you will, baby.”

  
The rest of the family found places on the couch, Daddy behind Laura, with Uncle Peter next to him, and Sophie’s parents, Terrance and cousin Megan, and Megan’s parents, Uncle James and Mama’s human sister, Aunt Maddie, on the other side of Mama.

  
Then Gramma Hale came in and stood in front of her chair, and all the chattering and squirming stopped. Gramma flashed her red eyes, meeting each person’s gaze with her own, every Beta’s eyes flashing gold in response. Derek shivered when her eyes met his, and he felt his sight sharpen as his wolf eyes came out reflexively at the red in hers. She held his gaze a little longer than usual, and he knew she’d be watching to see if he was a strong enough big brother to keep Alaric under control. It was really important that Al behave, and he felt the boy shiver when Gramma locked eyes with him next. Derek was just glad she wasn’t looking at _him_ anymore. It was a lot of pressure to put on a ten – _eleven_ , he’d just turned _eleven_ today – year old kid, he thought, but he was gonna do it even if he had to squeeze the stuffing out of his brother. Finally, Gramma had finished her eye thing, and sat in her chair, fluffing her skirt around her, then resting her arms on the armrests.

  
“Every December is a time of remembrance for Packs,” she said, Alpha power thrumming through her voice. “It is the time of year when the days are getting shorter, the nights longer, and the whole world holds its breath in fear that _this_ year it might not stop, that the days might disappear completely, and eternal night take over.” Her eyes swept over all of them again, stopping to rest on Uncle Peter. “On the night of the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, moonlit or dark, we run to remember all those we loved whom we’ve lost this year.”

  
Derek tried to look at Uncle Peter without seeming to look at him, to see why Gramma was staring at him.

  
She went on, “Some we lose to death, and others to fear. Some have run with us for decades, and others merely months. But all of them have changed us by their presence, and changed us again by their absence.”

  
_Oh_ , Derek thought, Uncle Peter’s girlfriend that he brought home to introduce to the Pack and tell her about ‘wolves, so he could ask her to marry him. And she’d freaked out so badly that Gramma had had to take her memories, and now she forgot she ever loved him, and they were broken up, and Uncle Peter was living at home with the Pack again.

  
“We run to mourn; we run to celebrate; we run until we have no strength to run more. We give all our power to the absent ones, that they might intercede to turn the year, to hold back the darkness. This we have done since before our beginning, and shall do until after our ending. It will be the last thing that will happen in the world, before the darkness consumes it forever.”

  
Everyone was frozen, and Derek could smell fear, and other similar emotions, but he couldn’t tell which belonged to who, except his own and Alaric’s, and Mama’s calmness as she rubbed her knees against his shoulders in reassurance.

  
“But that was last week,” Gramma said briskly. “We have done our duty to the world, and turned it back toward the light. Safe for another year!” There were a few chuckles and grins, but none from Uncle Peter, Derek noted.

  
“Tonight we are done with endings,” she said with a smile, and another sweep of her red eyes over the Pack. This time, when Derek felt her Power, he felt her overwhelming love, and fierce protectiveness of her Pack, and his wolf eyes felt sharp enough to see to the end of the universe. “Tonight we talk of our beginning.

  
“This story is the one packs tell on Christmas night, after all the presents are opened and all the food is eaten and all the games are played. This is a story of remembrance, of heritage, of what we are and what we face, and how, in spite of all that has changed over the years, some things are the same now as they were two thousand years ago.” She turned her hands palms up, as though offering them the story. “Long ago and far away,” she began…

  
*****

  
…Long ago and far away, there was a dry harsh land, where little grass grew and hardly any trees, except by the rivers and streams, and there were few of those. The humans living there settled in the wettest areas, planting olive trees and barley, and grazing their sheep and goats in the areas where crops would not grow. The humans’ numbers increased, and they pushed farther and farther into the wildlands, driving the hares and antelopes and wolves up into the nearly barren hills.

  
The animals had no choice, of course, for nothing could stand against the humans’ spears, and arrows, and fire. So, up the hills the wolves went, leaving the valleys to the shepherds and their animals. But how they looked longingly at the sheep and goats, so fat and stupid, and oblivious of their surroundings – nothing like the antelopes and hares, which were wary and wily, and hard to catch.

  
One springtime, in a year much drier than it should have been, a mother wolf gave birth in her den in the rocks high up on a mountainside to a litter of six cubs. She was young, and strong, with a fine, fierce mate, and four Betas, their cubs from the last year. The whole Pack was so happy! So many babies, tiny and soft, with their tightly closed eyes and floppy ears! And the mother and father, and all their older brothers and sisters loved them so _very_ much.

  
Now, the mother stayed in the den, of course, to nurse the cubs and keep them warm, while the rest of the Pack hunted to provide for them. But the dry spring did not become wetter. There had been little snow in the past winter, so no snowmelt, and the spring rains were slow to arrive. Without the water, the grass did not grow. Without the grass, the hares and antelopes died. For a while, there was plenty of food for the wolves, though it was tough and stringy from starvation. It was enough to keep the Pack fed, and most especially, to keep the mother fed, and producing milk for the cubs.

  
A month passed, and the cubs were able to toddle out of the den for short periods, strengthening their muscles, playing and learning how to be wolves. But still, the rains did not come, and all the hares and antelopes had died and been eaten, and the Pack began to come back to the den with only fur and bone scraps in their bellies for the mother and cubs.

  
Down in the valley, they could see the sheep and goats of the humans, hear their bleating, smell their delicious prey scent. But they could also see and smell the horrid smoke of the humans’ fires, and they hungered and feared in equal measure.

  
Days passed, and the Pack could find no prey, and the mother grew thin and worn, trying to keep the cubs alive on her milk alone, and all the Pack had hungered as they never had before. Finally, on a day when the wind up the mountain was especially strong, and the scent of easy prey and smoke was clearer than it had ever been before, something snapped inside the wolves. Their hunger overpowered their fear. As soon as it was dark, the father led his Betas down the mountain.

  
The shepherds had grouped their animals in a loose flock in a clearing, guarded by one of their number and a few dogs, but all were asleep. The wolves kept to the far edges of the area, using the sparse trees for cover, as they looked for strays. Sure enough, they found one – a plump young sheep who had hidden herself away and just given birth to two lambs, all three of them sound asleep. The wolves pounced, and all three were dead before they awoke.

  
The wolves tore them open, feasting on the warm red flesh, marbled with delicious fat, and had stripped them down to wool and bones in no time flat. Then silently, and as swiftly as they could with their bellies so full, they raced back up the mountain to take the food to the mother and cubs.

  
Oh, how happy the wolves were! Mother and cubs nipped at their packmates’ mouths until they brought back up steaming piles of deliciousness.

  
_[Al turned and nipped at Derek’s mouth, but a squeeze and faint growl and flash of Derek’s eyes got him swiftly turned back and paying attention. Mama’s hand came to rest on his head, gave two caresses, then left. Derek thought he might burst with pride.]_

  
They ate and ate, then all curled up next to one another, and slept. Morning came, and the wolves slept through it, bellies full for the first time in so long. Down in the valley, the humans woke, and began going about their strange busy-ness. It was the dogs who discovered the eaten sheep, following the scent of blood, and barking their distress when they found the bodies. Oh, how loud and angry were the shouts of the shepherds! How dared the wild beasts come down the mountain and steal from them! Intolerable! Unforgiveable! Forgetting completely that the wolves and hares and antelopes had been there first.

  
The sheep’s owner and some of his friends gathered spears and strapped on knives, and went up the mountain to search for the wolves.

  
Well, shepherds are no hunters, and even asleep the wolves heard them coming, and hid themselves among the boulders and caves in the mountainside. The shepherds searched all day, but, of course, found nothing but a few piles of weeks-old scat, and a few wisps of fur, before they had to flee down to their safe houses and fires with the coming of night. They set guards and watchfires around the clearing, determined to spot and kill any attacking wolves, but they were unsuccessful. The wolves were still full, and didn’t hunt that night.

  
Alas for the wolves! They had caught the attention of the humans, and that is a dreadful thing for any wild creature to get. The shepherds made plans, and set guards, and built watchfires, but the wolves outsmarted them at every turn. They came down the mountain every few days and took a sheep, and were never so much as glimpsed, let alone caught.

  
By and by, the villagers decided to send a delegation to the city, to petition the governor there for aid. Now, at this time, the leaders of this people were just as likely to kill their subjects as help them, so this was showed just how desperate the shepherds were. So down the valley to the city a small group of them went, walking as swiftly as they could, to the city to be heard by the governor. They explained to him what was going on in their valley, and he listened to them with unrestrained boredom.

  
Finally, as they were beginning to expound on their theory that the wolves might actually be demons, he interrupted them. “Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” he snapped.

  
“We are not hunters,” said the shepherds. “Surely you have some you could spare to come kill these demon wolves!”

  
“And what will you give me if I do?” the governor asked.

  
“We have no money,” the shepherds answered.

  
“Then you will give me your sheep.”

  
And here the shepherds realized their mistake, and tried to tell the governor not to bother, but there was a feast day coming up in the city, and a nice flock of sheep would suit the menu nicely. “I will send my hunters to your village, and they will kill your wolves, and in return you will give me the fattest third of your flocks.”

  
The shepherds barely managed to stifle their groans of anguish – that was over a hundred animals! More if they took the lambs, too. The wolves would not have taken that many in a year, and the villagers might have killed the beasts themselves by then. But there was nothing they could do to stop the governor’s plan, not with his armed soldiers eyeing them suspiciously, so they humbly thanked the governor, and retired to the courtyard to wait for the hunters to be fetched.

  
It was less than an hour’s time before the hunters appeared. And what a hard, dangerous-looking crew they were, too! There were four of them, each dressed in leather, and strapped about with knives and satchels and sharp metal implements that the shepherds couldn’t recognize the purpose of, and each carried a wicked-looking spear.

  
The eldest hunter gestured to the shepherds with his spear. “Let’s go,” he said, and those were nearly all the words the hunters spoke to the shepherds for the next five days.

  
Back up the valley to the village they went, and the hunters set about their grisly task. They took a sheep and packed its belly with poison, and set it out for the wolves to find. Sure enough, that night the father and Betas came down the mountain and ate the sheep, and were poisoned and died most cruelly.

  
The next morning, the villagers emerged from their huts, and the leader of the hunters exclaimed, “Follow us to see the end of your demons!” and led his men and most of the villagers up to where they had tied out the injured sheep.

  
And, oh! What a gruesome sight met their eyes! The dead, dismembered sheep they had expected to see, but she was surrounded by the bodies of five wolves, contorted in agony, white froth and black bile on their muzzles, all dead.

  
_[Here Gramma paused, and Derek could hear his family’s labored breaths, and smell their distress. “Wolfsbane,” Cora whispered, then gasped when Laura pinched her quiet. Derek squeezed Al tighter, and pressed back against Mama’s knees.]_

  
The hunters examined the bodies, and noted that neither of the two female Betas was nursing, so they knew there must be another female in the Pack who _had_ given birth, and three nights later set out another poisoned sheep to kill the mother and her cubs.

  
Alas, again, this was exactly what happened. The mother wolf brought her cubs – reluctantly, fearfully – down the mountain that very night.

  
They had waited as long as they could, hoping for the return of their pack, but though the mother wolf could have gone a little longer without food, the cubs couldn’t. So they crept down to the village, where the mother wolf immediately smelled the bleeding sheep. She carefully inspected the situation for danger, but there were no humans around, and the sheep was not running away, so how could she resist? She dashed in and grabbed her by the throat, as the cubs tore at their prey’s bleeding belly. She held the sheep through its death throes, then began to feed from her throat and chest, allowing the cubs to feast on the soft belly.

  
The soft, _poisoned_ belly.

  
Well, it wasn’t long before the cubs began choking and vomiting, whining in their pain and distress. The mother wolf stopped eating, and nosed at her cubs, licking at them. She didn’t understand what was wrong. She could smell something terrible and strange in the black vomit, but didn’t recognize its smell. In only a few moments, the cubs began to seize, and one by one, they died.

  
Well, the mother wolf did not know what to do. She nosed at her cubs, trying to wake them up, whining softly, but they did not move. She sniffed again at the sheep, but could smell the same scent of the cubs’ sick in the belly of the sheep, and reared back, snorting the scent out of her nose with a shake of her head. It was starting to get light, and she was frantic to get her cubs away from the humans’ place. She redoubled her efforts to wake her cubs, then grabbed the smallest one by his scruff and dashed away up the mountain when she heard the dogs bark their morning chorus.

  
Away she ran, as fast as she could with the cub in her mouth, up the mountain to the old birth den, the safest place she knew. She licked the cub, trying to wake him, but he was gone. She grew ill from the black bile on the cub’s muzzle, and staggered outside the den to vomit. In moments she was so ill that she fell unconscious.

  
Down in the village, the shepherds and hunters found the dead cubs, but no mother, so the hunters gathered their spears and bows and poisoned arrows, and set off to track her down. Though the ground was hard and dry, and showed no tracks, bile had dripped from the cub’s mouth in a trail they could just follow.

  
Up and up they went, eventually nearing the den. Though they were very quiet, and attempted to approach from downwind, the tricky mountain breeze shifted, and brought the scent of human and smoke and poison to the mother wolf’s nose. She woke just as they came into view, and crouched frozen, panting and terrified, as they approached. What should she do? She had never in her life been so close to humans, and was crazed with fear.

  
Well, the decision was made for her, because one of the hunters saw her, and loosed an arrow at her. _Snick!_ it clattered, as it hit the rocks near the mother wolf’s head. Up she sprang, and raced away through the boulders, twisting and turning as arrows rained down around her, once or twice coming close enough to graze her fur.

  
She ran. And ran. And ran. Perhaps the hunters chased her, perhaps they didn’t. All she knew was fear; she was made of fear, and she wouldn’t stop until she could no longer run.

  
All afternoon she ran, and all night, too, until she was far, far outside her Pack’s territory, two mountains away. Finally, she could run no longer, and when she came upon a little stream, she drank and drank, then found a hollow among some rocks, crept in, and fell asleep.

  
The next morning, she woke up, stiff and sore, and staggered when she stood. Gone was her terror, for animal brains are not able to maintain such extreme emotions for as long as humans do. She remembered her grief, though, and whined her distress at the loss of her Pack. What would she do? Everyone she loved was gone. She was all alone.

  
_[Derek tried very hard not to cry, and interrupt Gramma’s story, but Cora and Laura were weeping quietly, and even Patrick was sniffing softly. Derek thought that Alaric and Sophie were probably too young to understand what had happened in the story, but the overwhelming scent of sadness, and the sound of the others crying, had set them weeping, too. “Shh,” Derek whispered at his charge. “It’s alright. I won’t let anything happen to you; it’s just a story,” and he rubbed his face on the little boy to comfort them both, and Mama’s hands petting their hair helped, too. Gramma waited for the sobbing to quiet down, then continued.]_

  
The mother wolf drank a little, then set off to explore this new land. She kept her nose open for scents of prey, but this place, if anything, was drier and more empty than the territory she had left. She found no life at all that day, and when night came, she howled her loneliness to the sky.

  
The next day, she kept traveling, and was lucky enough to flush a small hare, and ate it up in a few bites. Days passed, as she searched for food and a place to be, howling every night but never hearing an answer.

  
Miles upon miles she traveled, through mountains and valleys, across plains and streams, finding just enough food to stay alive, but no other wolves to ease her loneliness. Time passed – a few months perhaps, though that was not something a wolf would note – and still she wandered, looking for a place to call home, and wolves to make Pack, though she never forgot the Pack that she lost. And always, _always,_ when she smelled humans, she ran or hid.

  
One night, seemingly no different from so many before, as she was trying to find prey to hunt, she smelled – _something._ Something sweet and soft and somehow familiar. She stopped, and turned her nose into the wind, and followed where the scent led. Over the hills and across the streams and through the spiny scrub, she followed, and the scent grew stronger and stronger, and it wasn’t long before she recognized it. It was her cubs! Or something like her cubs. It was what she smelled when they were nursing, and the smell when her Pack was all huddled together sleeping with full bellies, and the smell of her and her mate when they washed each other’s faces after eating. She had no word for it, of course, but we would call it love.

  
For hours and hours she chased the scent, until it was all she could smell in the world, and she would have howled her joy if she’d had breath to do so. Eventually, she came over a small rise, and the smell was so strong, she thought she must surely have found the source. But what she saw made her skid to a halt. At the foot of the hill, huddled against the base of a boulder, was a fire, and the sleeping forms of two humans.

  
The mother wolf whined softly. Were the humans keeping her cubs captive? She crept closer, taking advantage of every tiny bit of cover, and used all her senses to try to figure out what was going on. When she was only a small distance away, one of the humans shifted, and the cloth covering it fell aside, revealing a third, very small human, which stood up, and made soft human noises at the wolf. She crouched, frozen in indecision. Her eyes told her that this was a human, an enemy, but her nose told her it was her cub, the scent of love overwhelming her in the best way. She didn’t move as the child toddled toward her, except for her trembles. The child walked right up to her, and grasped the fur of her ruff in its hands, and rubbed its face against hers.

  
Well, that decided the mother wolf. It didn’t matter that this little creature looked like a human, it smelled and acted like one of her cubs, and that was enough for her. She started licking him, for male he turned out to be, whining softly in her joy at finding one of her lost Pack. The boy giggled at her tickly tongue, and hugged her closer, babbling his incomprehensible human sounds. She finished bathing him, and nudged him into the curve of her belly, and soon they both were asleep.

  
The next morning, the sound of the other humans stirring woke the mother wolf, but the boy was asleep on her, so she didn’t move, just watched them closely. It was only a moment before they noticed that the boy was not with them, and only another moment more before they caught sight of him with the wolf.

  
The male let out a cry of fear and anger, and grabbed up a stick to charge the wolf, but the female grabbed his arm, and directed loud cries of her own to the male, who stopped to listen. They vocalized back and forth to each other for a few more moments, the wolf watching, muscles tense, ready to snatch the child and run.

  
Eventually, the male dropped his stick, and stepped back, and the female approached the wolf and boy, hands held out and open in front of her, murmuring soft sounds.

  
The wolf sniffed the air to take in her scent. She smelled like love, too, though nowhere near as strongly as the boy. The wolf lowered her head and softened her ears to show she would not attack, and the woman came close enough that the wolf could smell her hands. She smelled only of love and female human and the child, and a little of male human, but nothing of sheep or poison. The wolf let the woman touch her head, stroking her scent into the wolf’s fur, a scent of family and safety and love, and her tail twitched in a tiny wag like a cub.

  
The woman touched the boy and woke him up, and he raised his arms for her to pick him up. She did, and rose to her feet, and cupped the back of the wolf’s head to urge her to follow them back to the man, who watched their approach, stinking of fear and anger. The wolf kept him in the corner of her eye, but she would follow the woman and child wherever they went. They were Pack; with that scent, what else could they be? The man scuffed dirt on the fire and made it smaller, which the wolf eyed warily as well, while the woman opened a cloth, from which emerged the lovely scent of food. The wolf licked her chops, hungry from her weeks of travel. The woman gave some food to the boy, then herself and the man, and tossed some to the wolf as well.

  
She ate her breakfast, and looked hopefully in the woman’s direction for some more, but she was putting things in cloth, and making bundles, one of which she gave to the man, who tied it to his back. Then she picked up the boy and tied him to her front, set a bundle on her head, and turned to the man, who began leading them away from the boulder.

  
The mother wolf tilted her head to the side, thinking. It wasn’t a good idea to go walking in the daytime. Daytime was for sleeping! But this was her Pack, and unless she wanted to challenge them for the leadership, she would have to follow.

  
All day they walked, and the heat was terrible. They stopped once at midday to eat and drink a little, even sharing with the wolf, but there was not enough to satisfy. The wolf huffed. These Packmates were dreadfully incompetent. She raised her muzzle and sniffed the breeze. She caught a scent of water and hares, and trotted off to check it out. Only a little ways away she found a spring and oasis, and several stupid hares grazing unconcernedly. She quickly killed two, and picked up both of them and took them back to the humans.

  
When the woman tried to take them from her, she backed off slightly then stopped. When the woman walked forward and almost reached her again, she backed away, towards the oasis, then stopped again. It only took a few more repeats before the woman was following her properly, the man not too far behind. When they reached the oasis, the man and woman babbled quite loudly, and then put down their bundles and the boy, and waded out into the water to drink and bathe. Then the man made a fire, and took the hares from where the wolf had dropped them, and cut them up, tossing the heads and feet and guts to the wolf, who gobbled them up lickety-split. Then he put the hares on sticks and put them in the fire, while the woman did things with pieces of cloth and the water. The wolf chuffed at the child, and was pleased when he came right to her, and she took him into the shade of a tree and knocked him down gently, then licked him clean and curled around him and went to sleep.

  
So the four of them passed the day, the boy and wolf sensibly sleeping, while the man and woman did inexplicable busy things. When night fell, the humans curled up by their small fire and fell asleep, while the mother wolf went off to hunt. She smelled antelope, and tracked them silently, and managed to take a huge buck. She dragged it back to where the rest of her Pack was sleeping, but they did not wake. So she ate the soft belly and sweetbreads, then had a long drink from the spring. She went back to the sleeping humans and nosed the boy awake, who followed he off a few feet, then curled up against her warm belly and fell asleep.

  
The next morning, the mother wolf was awoken by the sound of the man and woman babbling loudly at each other with wild gestures. The wolf grumbled quietly in annoyance at their foolishness, but was glad that they were not biting each other, at least. Eventually they quieted, and then worked together with their knives to cut up the buck. All day, the little Pack ate and rested, the man and woman ruining the meat with smoke, while the boy played in the water under the mother wolf’s watchful though somewhat sleepy eye.

  
Late in the afternoon, the mother wolf felt vibrations in the earth, and roused herself to listen and smell the wind, but it was blowing in the wrong direction, and she couldn’t smell anything. But several large animals were definitely approaching. The man and sleeping boy ignored her, but the woman noticed her alertness, and said something soft and sharp to the man. Up he jumped, and looked in the direction the wolf was looking, as the woman bent to pick up the boy from where he lay dozing.

  
Suddenly, the wind shifted, and the mother wolf caught a scent – human and smoke and poison – hunters! The wolf snarled, and turned to the man, snapping at him to get him to run. He jerked away from her with a cry, and she turned to chivy the woman along as well. She stumbled away from the wolf, the boy dropping out of her hands. The mother wolf was beside herself in terror. Hunters were coming for her Pack again! She snatched up the boy by his clothing, and ran.

  
Away through the oasis she ran, carrying the child, the man and woman falling far behind. She ran past the trees and shrubs, around boulders and up and down small hills, until her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. Eventually, she came to a tangle of scrub and boulders, and squirmed her way into it on her belly, nosing the boy in ahead of her. Then she turned, panting softly, to watch back the way they came, the scent of her own terror thick in her nose, and the boy breathing quiet and still behind her.

  
Night fell, and she curled around the child to keep him warm, dozing only lightly as he slept. All the rest of that night, and all the next day, she kept them hidden, the boy alternating sleeping and playing quietly with sticks and pebbles, but staying put obediently. When night fell again, she crawled out of her hiding place, and chuffed softly for the boy to follow her. When they were free of the scrub, the boy grabbed onto the fur of her shoulder, and pulled himself up onto her back, where he clung to her with his little hands and knees. She was just about to snap and roll to dislodge him when he put a hand on her head, and she got the sudden image of herself running, and the boy on her back, not falling off, and it felt good, and right.

  
Well, she could let him ride her, she supposed. So, away they went, back towards the oasis, running this time at an easy, even lope that ate up the miles, and didn’t jar the boy too much. The great full moon was just showing above the distant hills when they arrived back at the oasis. As soon as they came to the water, they both drank their fill, then the child crawled back on top of the wolf, and they set out to find the rest of their Pack – which was easy to do, because they were still at the original campsite.

  
The mother wolf hesitated at the edge of the firelight, the scent of the hunters still heavy around them. But it wasn’t fresh; it was at least a day old, so she crept carefully into the light. And, oh, what a loud commotion the man and woman made at their arrival! They threw themselves at the boy and pulled him off the wolf, holding him tight, crying and shouting. The wolf sneezed, and shook her ruffled fur back in place, then sat on her haunches watching their inexplicable human behavior – all the while keeping her senses alert for danger.

  
Eventually, they stopped their noise, and the woman reached out a hand to the mother wolf from where they were crouched on the ground. The wolf walked over to her, and let the woman stroke her head, and murmur soft sounds to her. The wolf nosed the woman’s hair, inhaling the scent of joy and love and Pack, and even tolerated the man’s small, tentative pats. Then the child put his hands on the mother wolf’s head, and looked into her eyes, and she wanted to look away, and also to never look away, and then she felt a pressure in her head, a fullness, and her mind filled with images and sounds and feelings, and it didn’t hurt, but it was very confusing. Then she felt a ripple all over her body, as though ants were crawling on her everywhere, and then her body was twisting and shifting and suddenly the sounds the man and woman were making had meaning, and she understood what they meant.

  
“Lord have mercy, what has he done,” said the man.

  
“It is the will of the Almighty,” answered the woman. Then she turned to the wolf and asked, “Can you understand me, my dear?”

  
The wolf made a small noise in her throat, _because she did_. “I understand,” she said, not knowing how she knew the words, but knowing nonetheless. She looked at herself, and saw naked human skin. She turned her hands over, marveling at them, and touched her face with them, and felt hairless skin there, too. “What have you done to me?” she asked.

  
“It is my son’s doing,” said the woman. “You saved his life from the king’s men who were hunting him, and he wished to give you a gift.”

  
The woman lifted the boy up a little, and he placed his hands on the wolf’s head again. Immediately, her mind filled with images of the four of them, traveling together, the wolf sometimes human, and sometimes a wolf, and sometimes something in between. There were images of them eating together, sleeping together, playing together, as the child grew from a toddler to a half-grown boy, and the wolf protected him and his parents. Then the images showed them parting ways, then quick flickers of an unknown man with dark skin who smelled like love, and children who were sometimes cubs and sometime human, who also smelled like love. Then a man, bloody and still, who smelled like the boy, and darkness, and grief, then light and nothing but the scent of love.

  
The child removed his hands from the wolf’s head, and she fell back on her backside, stunned by the onslaught of sensations and sights. She blinked and focused on the boy, who was looking at her steadily. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes.”

  
*****

  
Gramma’s eyes swept over each of them again. “And that is the end of the story of how our people came to be, not as a human cursed, as the hunters like to tell it, but as a wolf rewarded.

  
“Mother Wolf made an agreement with the Child on our behalf: in exchange for walking both as human and wolf, and for our healing ability and our strength, she agreed to always protect those weaker than ourselves, to be kind and generous to them, and responsible for them, their safety and well-being. To be the Guardians of the world, and all life in it.”

  
Gramma looked at Patrick and Sophie, and Aunt Maddie. “And so that we do not forget our promise, so that we do not become tyrants, the first-born of every generation in the Pack is born without the wolf, an Emissary between the Pack and the mundane, a reminder of the first human that wolves ever loved, a reminder of who and what we are, and the bridge between our two sides. And most of all, our most treasured Packmates.”

  
Aunt Maddie set her hands on Patrick’s and Sophie’s heads. “Thank you, Mother,” she said. “We are honored to be so.”

  
Derek shifted slightly. He was a little bummed that he was nothing special – just a Beta, one of many, that he’d never be an Emissary or an Alpha – but then Mama’s hand was in his hair, and Al was twisting around to throw his arms around Derek’s neck and kiss him, saying, “See, I told you I’d be good!” and Derek knew that even if he was nothing special, as long as he had his Pack he’d be happy.

*****

Derek watched through the storm door as the last of his Betas' taillights disappeared around the bend in the driveway, then shut and locked the inner door. He sighed and leaned back as strong arms encircled his waist from behind, and his husband dropped a kiss on the side of his head. "I love that story," Stiles said, rubbing his cheek on Derek's head. "You'll have to record it, so I can transcribe it into the Bestiary."

Derek shrugged. They'd get to it eventually. By which he meant that Stiles would find a time when they both weren't busy, and then nag him into doing it. He smirked a little to himself. That was basically their relationship in a nutshell. He turned around in Stiles' embrace, and gave him a slow, soft kiss, then buried his face in his husband's neck, inhaling the perfect scent of _lovesafetyhomeStiles_.

Stiles' firm hands swept up and down Derek's back, and he almost melted under the massage. He leaned into him a little more.

"My sleepywolf," Stiles murmured, then was quiet a moment, as his hands continued their motions. "I always wondered why you listened to me, trusted me, back then. I always assumed you were crazy desperate to put your faith in a weak, scrawny human."

Derek shook his head without removing it from Stiles' neck. "Never weak. And you were just young, not scrawny." He squeezed Stiles a little harder around his back. "And you filled out _really_ nicely when you grew up." He breathed in Stiles' calming scent for a few seconds, as he steeled his courage. "Gramma and Aunt Maddie were killed about a year after when this story happened." Stiles' arms tightened and his heart sped up slightly, but he made no other reaction. Derek was grateful. He wouldn't have been able to go on if he'd been interrupted. "They were ambushed by hunters on the way back from a negotiation with another Pack. Mom and Patrick became Alpha and Emissary. Then two years later, Patrick was killed in a car accident. Sophie was too young to take up the Emissary duties, so Mom asked the local druid if he would step in for a few years. That was Deaton, though no one in the family ever met him, or knew who he was. Sophie would've been able to do some of the rituals by the time she was twelve or thirteen, and all of them by sixteen or seventeen." But she died in the fire along with everyone else, only eight years old.

He rubbed his nose along Stiles' neck. "You remind me so much of Patrick. He was smart, and stupid brave, and funny as hell, and in everything he did, he put the Pack first." Stiles' grip tightened a little, but still he said nothing. "You were what saved me back then, literally, not just figuratively. I would not have survived without you; my Betas would have died without you; we wouldn't have a stable Pack with our first cub about to be born without you." He kissed the space behind Stiles' ear. "Thank you."

Stiles made a tiny sound of protest. "Anytime, big guy," he said. " _Any._ Time _._ I will always be your Emissary, your bridge between the Pack and the mundane. And I will be your frickin' guard on that bridge, and I will _never_ let anything across that will hurt you, hurt the Pack. I promise. I _promise_." And his heart beat loud and steady as a metronome.

Derek pulled his head back and looked into those fierce, gorgeous amber eyes, and smiled a tiny smile. "Yes," he said, dropping a small kiss on Stiles' lips. "Yes."

  
The End

 

_Matthew 2: 13 – 16_

_13 When the Magi had gone, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. “Get up,” he said, “take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”_  
_14 So he got up, took the child and his mother during the night and left for Egypt,_  
_15 where he stayed until the death of Herod. And so was fulfilled what the Lord had said through the prophet: “Out of Egypt I called my son.”_  
_16 When Herod realized that he had been outwitted by the Magi, he was furious, and he gave orders to kill all the boys in Bethlehem and its vicinity who were two years old and under, in accordance with the time he had learned from the Magi._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
